Unfortunately - Book 1
by Not Calm Fangirl
Summary: This is going to be an ongoing series called UNITE, focussing on 5 girls (all OCs) and their backstories and adventures. This is an original story, so why it's on , you tell me. *You don't have to read the books in order, but I still suggest you do, especially since I'm writing and uploading them in a specific order.* Welp, enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

I zoomed through the dark hallways, too fast for the built-in cameras to swerve into focus before I was already gone. Unfortunately, I was the focus of the four security guards hot on my tail. My rollerblades skidded across the floor as I sharply turned to avoid crashing into a corner, leaving dark marks in my wake. This gave a camera enough time to stare me down.

"Sorry, no paparazzi!" I smirked, whipping out my nerf gun and shooting it with a preloaded, explosive dart. The maroon smoke and raining camera parts caused enough commotion for the guards to crash into the wall, wrestling each other on the floor like children, giving me more than enough time to escape. Gripping my silver pendant in my fist, I sped off.

Two minutes of rolling went by. I was close, I know it. A drop of sweat rolled down my cheek, leaving tingles in its path.

Five minutes went by. Was I tired from running away?

Ten minutes went by. No. I've been running away my entire life. 15 years old was way too young to want to retire.

I slowed down, looking back behind me to make sure there was nobody on my trail, sliding into a corner too dark to be seen by the cameras - hopefully.

I caught my breath.

Finally, I got to study the pendant in my palm. It was similar to a mini shield, with a series of three intricate, circular designs and a strange shape in the middle - two vertical lines standing next to each other, with a shorter, horizontal line connecting them.

Unfortunately with this limited but quiet time I had, it also gave me an opportunity to reflect on what had happened earlier - I guessed about twenty minutes ago.

I hissed at the man in the prison cell. "Get up! I can get us out of here! I know the way!"

The drugged darts I shot at the guards only lasted so long, but no matter how I beckoned the man, he wouldn't get up. It was almost as if even though I had unlocked the barred door with the keys I stole, I couldn't break him out of the real bars that kept him here.

I didn't find out what those bars were that day.

"Please, Baaba! I can't leave without you! I can't survive-" My quiet pleads were cut short when my father looked up at me for the first time. His eyes were filled with grief, regret, and resignation, but there was a spark of something I didn't think I'd see in him ever again.

Determination.

"Come close, my child." He beckoned.

I shuffled close, my rollerblades already strapped onto my feet and ready to get moving, but I knelt next to him for a moment, before burying my head into his shoulder, on the verge of snapping like a straw.

"Why, Baaba? Why won't you come? I won't make it without you. I can't do it."

"But, my sweet girl, you can. Do you know why?"

I lifted my head.

"Why?"

"Hey, where are my keys?" A guard interrupted, sleep laced in his voice. My eyes grew large as my head went back into 'Alert Mode'. How he woke up so early was beyond my comprehension. But what I could comprehend perfectly well, was that I had to leave. Immediately.

My father understood that, as well. He got up quickly and crouched next to a wall, digging into a crack in the stone wall and pulling out something silver, that glistened sharply even in the dim light. He took my left palm and placed it in the middle, closing my hand tightly.

"Go. Find your mother. Show her this."

"Baaba-"

"You don't have much time. Please, don't worry about me. I was destined to end up here. I'm just glad you weren't."

"But-"

He took his hands and held my cheeks, rubbing them with his thumbs for a single moment.

"Hermes, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." He kissed my forehead. "Don't you ever doubt that."

"O-okay." I could hear other guards beginning to stir. I must've given them my weaker bunch of darts. I'd have ten seconds tops before they come to their senses and realize two prison cells were open, and one was empty.

"And remember," Baaba said, his eyes glistening with pride, "You are a force to be reckoned with."

I squeezed him, taking in everything I could. Soaking my father's love in for the last time.

And then, I ran.

I was jolted out of my trance by red flashing lights and blaring alarms. The rest of the security guards must have woken up. I jumped up, a renewed determination flowing through my veins, and raced on.

Unfortunately - I began to believe luck would never be on my side - I began to feel light headed. I kept going, pushing my body to its limits. That's when things began going downhill. The lights blared in my eyes, but I began seeing less and less. The alarms fell quieter and quieter; all I heard were muffled blasts of sound. As I zoomed through the hallways, whipping around corners and zooming past doors, I found myself in a clear path towards what looked like an open door, with bright stars on the other side.

"An exit!" I exhaled, too numb to feel any emotion other than an overwhelming relief and pure determination, completely ignoring the signs my body was sending me. Suddenly, a man leaped out of a room several feet ahead of me, blocking the exit from view. My vision blurred until all I saw was his silhouette, but I was determined to make it out of there alive. I saw twinkling lights ahead of me, and adrenaline pumped through my veins. I was so close. I could see the night sky through an open door, right ahead of the one obstacle standing in my way. When I came close enough to him, I tried to swiftly swerve around him, a trick that, done correctly, would be too quick and sudden for him to notice I'd changed directions until it was too late.

Done correctly.

Apparently, it was too fast for my entire lower half to keep up with what I planned to do, because my knees buckled from beneath me, utterly betraying me. My side landed on the floor, but my momentum carried me forward, stopping at his black, shiny shoes. Numb with adrenaline, the only thing I could do in defense was grip the pendant in my hand tightly, keeping it from view. As my vision grew darker and more narrow, I caught a glimpse of the smirk on the man's face, as he picked me up, and carried me off quickly. I collapsed into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

My eyes fluttered open, just to be assaulted with a fiercely bright light overloading my vision. I tried to lift my hand to give my eyes relief from the unusually bright setting, but something was resisting my left hand from moving. It felt a bit painful, as if something was trying to pry my hand open. It was then that I noticed my fingernails were still digging into my palm, and a small, cold object remained tucked inside. My pendant?

I forced my eyes to adjust to the light, blinking the world into focus. I gazed at the strangely cozy room I was in. Beige walls surrounded me, with one break near the bed for a window to invite warm sunlight in.

Wait, bed?

I hadn't felt a bed in months! The soft mattress beneath me welcomed me and sent foreign yet peaceful vibes through my body, which was a nice alternative to my familiar adrenaline. The pillow engulfed my aching head, and the fluffy blanket over me trapped me in an embrace that made me want to close my eyes again and drift into dreams about puppy dogs. I almost forgot about the guy trying to pry my hand open to no avail, due to my subconscious grip on one the only possessions I had left, besides my nerf gun - which with a little shuffling, I realized wasn't attached to my belt - and my rollerblades - which were no longer strapped onto my feet.

Adrenaline coursed through my body once again as realization hit my drowsy head like a ton of bricks.

"Hey! Stop that!" I snatched my fist from his grasp and brought it to my chest, causing the boy to jump in surprise.

"Dang it." He muttered, before standing up and straightening his white t-shirt, which laid half tucked into his indigo jeans. He crossed his bronze arms and stared me down as I sat up, alert and ready to fight my way out this cozy but foreign place.

"Before you try to fight your way out," the boy predicted my thoughts, "know that we still have you disarmed, and there is important information you just might want to know."

"Who's 'we'?" I growled.

"Dylan, the chicken soup is ready for our guest! Is she awake yet?" A woman yelled from outside the door. I raised an eyebrow.

"Where am I?"

Dylan smirked a strangely familiar smirk before shouting back, not breaking eye contact, "Yeah, mom. She's up."

Dylan offered his hand to me as I cautiously lifted the covers out of the way, to be greeted by a surge of cool air. I firmly placed my sleeping feet on the floor and ignoring the sharp tingles, I stood up. My legs buckled from underneath me, not ready for any excessive pressure yet, leaving the only force holding me up to be Dylan, who lurched forward almost on instinct and caught me. Not in the mood to be carried again, I tried to push myself away from him, only to find myself off balance, almost faceplanting onto the wooden floor. I glanced up to find his hand stretched down towards me. I responded with a glare, before forcing myself up and striding out of the room as if nothing happened. As I moved through the doorway, I stuffed my pendant in a my pocket. I replied to a chuckle behind me with one look back. If looks could kill, I'd be a murderer.

I quickly realized I didn't know where I was going, almost wishing Dylan had walked with me.

Almost.

The strong smell of freshly cooked chicken soup led me forward through a well-lit hallway. I glanced at the mahogany doors on either side of me. The first door I passed by was wide open. Inside I saw plaid covers on a king-sized bed and a large book sitting on the wooden night stand beside it. Gazing at the other features and their fantastic neatness gave me the conclusion that a cleaning tornado must have swept through the room the day before. I continued on, glancing at the room on my right, needing to see no more after finding a marble bathtub through the crack in the door. One more room stood in front of me at the corner, but the door was shut, and after I jiggled the door knob to no avail, I decided the locked door would be my conquest until I escaped this place. I turned the corner to find an open space, where I finally found the stove with a pot sitting on top.

"Hello, dear! You must be starving. Please, come sit with me!" As the hallway ended, I was greeted with a miniscule woman - I guessed around 4'8 - sitting at a stone dining table. In front of her two bowls of chicken soup teased me. I slowly walked towards her, enticed by the smell and her smiling face. I moved past the kitchen space - a stove with two pots sitting opposite of each other over an oven that had its light on; indicating something was cooking inside. The sink in the island was completely empty. It was then that I noticed the entire kitchen was spotless, like the bedroom.

I shuffled past the kitchen and into what you'd call a dining room. It had a dining table, but with the small tv on a wooden stand, the two black couches, and the rocking chair with cracks everywhere and probably whined really loudly if you moved it? Well, what you would call it was debatable, but by the warm smile and joy radiating from this lady, I came to decision.

She is not to be trusted.

I sat across from her, as far as possible, but she didn't seem to notice. Her bright green eyes studied me, from my short, midnight hair to my dark brown skin, coated with streaks of maroon dirt. Most people would've given me a look of disgust, as if not having access to showers in captivity was my fault, or a sympathetic gaze they would throw to a homeless person before tucking that five dollar bill deeper into their pocket and moving along. Dylan's mom gave me a sympathetic smile - I didn't know what I was expecting - but her blazing eyes stared me down like I was her latest challenge. She gently pushed a steaming bowl of chicken stew towards me. When I didn't immediately start digging in, despite my stomach's loud complaints, she prodded me, "Eat, my child, then we'll chat." It sounded as if I actually wanted to 'chat'. However, I hadn't eaten anything since the morning of the jail break, and who knows how long I've been out of commission since then. I gazed at the gorgeously scrumptious-looking stew - perfectly cooked potatoes, golden bits of chicken, and best of all, carrots. Lots of carrots.

If this stew was drugged, it was drugged to perfection.

I gave into my starving desires and tried a bite. I'd say it tasted just as good as it looked, but my taste buds would deem that as a fat lie - almost as fat as I'm about to be.

It was better.

Much, much, better.

After drilling through the meal and licking up any remains that tried to escape their fate, I slouched into my chair, my stomach completely content for the first time in a long while. Other than feeling a bit colder than usual, I felt perfectly ok. The woman continued to gaze at me, possibly hoping that my full stomach my cloud my thoughts and make me easier to work with. The thought jerked me back into reality. This wasn't my home, or a friendly visit. This is a foreign place I've brought to, no, taken to, against my will. And for all I know, I could've fallen into a trap.

"Who are you?" I sat up, glaring down at this woman, who I refused to see as a kind mother who I should be grateful for, but a potential enemy. I studied her, calculating what she could use against me - a practice I had long mastered.

"Why dear, my name is Ms. Einsam, but please, call me Sharyl. You may have met my son, Dylan, earlier. We are only here to help, child. Please don't be wary, it really is unnecessary here!" Sharyl explained.

"The last time I heard something like that..." I glanced at the door by the t.v, which shut out all outside light, except for the circular glass window slightly above the door handle. It was next to the three locks - two more than what my prison cell had. "...let's just say, I regret letting my guard down so easily." This didn't drench Sharyl's spirit. "If I tell you what you'd like to know, will you enlighten me with what we need to know?"

"And what if I don't agree?"

Sharyl's smile tightened for a moment, before relaxing again. "Then we'll just have to... convince you."  
I despised the way she said the word 'convince', like she was about to back me into a corner. Unfortunately, I decided that even if I could probably overpower her and pick the locks before Dylan joined us, there was info I'd be a fool to leave without.

"Fine. But you must answer a few of my questions first." I glared intently, prepared to pick out any lies she might try to mix in.

Sharyl's smile only grew a bit bigger. Her eyes were as sharp as mine. "Of course, child." Even if she was physically much shorter than me, it would be a mistake to write her off as 'weaker' so quickly.

I wasn't the only one who would put up a fight.


	3. Chapter 3

"Your father is a very… independent man. He was very hesitant of me and my motives at first, until I mentioned your mother."

"You know my mother?" I raised an eyebrow. She wasn't the first to try using my mom's disappearance to their advantage. "How come I've never heard of you before?"

"I _knew_ your mother. We worked in the same corporation before she had to go on a m-" Sharyl corrected herself, "leave of absence."

My eyebrow didn't go down. "The truth is…?"

"The truth," she snapped, before softenning her tone again, "is not in my place to say. However, I do know who _can_ give you more info about your mother. Of course, we're getting off topic. You wanted to know why you're here."

I was tempted to tell Sharyl to forget about that and talk more about my mother, especially if she knows what happened to her a year ago. However, I had to focus on one subject at a time.

"Fair enough. Why am I here?" I asked.

"What a good question!" I refrained from rolling my eyes. "Your father and I made a deal. I would help his precious daughter get to safety, if she had what I wanted. He promised me she would. So, the night before you and your father were taken to your prison cells, the guards forced all the prisoners to take pills with inserted devices that could electrify or track the position and vitals of its surroundings. The separate remote control that showed where you were at all times was taken by Dylan, who had been impersonating a guard for the past month."

"So that was Dylan, the one who caught me right before I passed out?"

"From what he's told me, yes."

The puzzle began to piece itself together. That's how Dylan found me in that maze of a jail center, and moments before my strength gave out.

"Wait, that doesn't answer _everything_." I protested.

"What else is there for you to know?" Sharyl's voice was as tight as her smile.

"What did you want from me?"

Sharyl's smile faded for the first time, unsure of how to give me a satisfying answer without revealing what she'd prefer to stay hidden.

"That's what I thought." I stood up, almost tipping over the chair. "I think I've heard enough."

"But-"

"Thanks for the stew. I'll be on my way now." I walked towards the door, completely aware of my naked feet and unarmed belt. I moved deliberately slow, waiting for the woman to snap.

"Wait!" I stopped, a foot in front of the door. A chair squeaked as it rubbed against the floor.

There it is.

I turned around, arms crossed. I was met with a woman I didn't recognize - Sharyl's bright gaze was replaced with a dark, old glare, as if I wasn't the first to receive the harsh look. We stared each other down for what seemed like minutes. All we needed was some tumbleweed and cowboy hats, and this could be an old-fashioned western showdown.

Finally, she lifted her hand, and moved her finger in a 'come' motion, but not towards me, towards the opening into the kitchen I had first come out of. Dylan revealed himself somberly, carrying my beloved rollerblades and tripped-out nerf gun, which was still fully loaded with all my darts - darts I'd spent over a year perfecting - and dumped them on the floor in front of him. He copied my crossed arms tightly.

"You aren't leaving so easily." Sharyl's tone had lowered an octave, and was laced with bitter venom. I honestly preferred this side of her. I didn't have wonder what she was hiding. Nonetheless, she glared at me like I was no longer a human being to her, but an obstacle to her goals. She probably wasn't going to be very lenient with her obstacles. "If you can't tell, I have what you can't leave without."

"I can easily make more." I bluffed. I would probably never recreate those beautiful weapons, especially without my parents there to help me. Of course, she didn't know that, and I was going to keep it that way.

"I wasn't talking about that!" Sharyl hissed. "Only I know what happened to your mother. Where she is now. And let me tell you, child," she said, "your mother isn't living in luxury."

I growled. I knew I shouldn't let her get to me. But I was desperate.

Almost as if a lightbulb had flickered on above my head, an idea struck me. I forced myself to release as much tension as possible without letting my guard down, changing my burning glare into a look more neutral.

"Okay. I'm going to honor our deal. I've asked enough. I'll answer your questions, and stay for a single night. However, don't expect me to remain here any later than 8am."

"And if you try to leave?"

I glanced at Dylan. "Then I just lost several years worth of equipment."

Sharyl stared me down, matching my neutral look, as if she was trying to figure out the kinks in my plan that could work to my advantage. After apparently finding none, her face returned to the cheerful expression, as if none of that had happened. Sharyl ushered Dylan away, but when he knelt to take my stuff with him, she reproached him, her voice an octave back to normal.

"Please, Dylan, leave my child's belongings be! That's not how you treat a lady's things!"

Dylan looked up at her, glanced at me in a weird way, then stood up and walked back into the hallway.

What was that look he gave me? Was that... pity?

Sharyl kept her eyes on me - her scarily bright green eyes - as she motioned me to take my seat again. I looked at the three locks on the door once more, before forcing myself back to my seat. She watched me the entire way.

What was up with these people and eye contact?

I stared down at the empty bowl in front of me. I just had to get through this conversation without allowing her to have too much information, figure out a way to open the window in the room I'm staying in, and get out in the night, preferably with my belongings. As I stared at my bowl, I noticed something stuck to the bottom, something purple. I squinted.

"Wait a minute…" I looked up to find Sharyl smiling sympathetically, but her eyes were completely aware of what I realized. Shivers ran down my back. I felt colder than ever. "I knew it!" My triumph over the argument between my stomach and mind was quickly squashed by a wave of vertigo overcoming my sense of balance.

"The greatest weapon against is you is your own desire, my child." Sharyl admitted. "Too bad you had to learn it the hard way. Too bad you won't even remember this very important lesson."

"Not again…" I mumbled as my focus span and warped.

"Let's try this again tomorrow! I think I'll say _I'm_ your mother this time!" Sharyl laughed. For one second my eyes focused, and I saw it. I saw the real Sharyl in her eyes.

Right before I blacked out, I had one thought.

 _This woman is a maniac._


	4. Chapter 4

My eyes fluttered open, just to be assaulted with a fiercely bright light overloading my vision. To relieve my pupils from the unusually well-lighted room, I lifted my left hand to cover them. I noticed something restraining it, and for a second I felt a strange deja-vu. However, it was just the fluffy blanket engulfing me in a familiar warmth.

Familiar? I hadn't been in a bed in months. Was my body playing tricks on me?

I forced my eyes to adjust to the light, and studied my surroundings - beige walls and one break near the bed for a window to invite warm sunlight in. I felt a headache beginning to form. It must've been because I had recently fainted…. Recently? I searched my brain for any sort of clues on how long I had been out of commission. I began thinking of the jailbreak, and my pendant.

Wait, where is it?

For some reason, my hands went straight to my pockets, where I found a cool small object resting undisturbed. I let out a sigh of relief, until I realized my luck only stretched out so far. My rollerblades and nerf-gun were no longer equipped, to my dismay.

My thoughts were interrupted by a muffled voice of a woman calling, "Dylan, the brownies are ready for our guest! Is she awake yet?"

I looked up towards the door across the room - where the voice came from - only now noticing a boy around my age sitting in a chair next to it, watching me.

I studied him.

He studied me.

After a few moments that felt like a few minutes, he turned his head to the open window and sighed.

"Yeah, mom. She's up."

I cautiously moved the blankets out of the way, chills shooting up my spine both by the surprisingly cool air and the unforgiving stone floors my feet touched. I glanced at Dylan, who seemed to be watching in expectation, before I pushed myself up. When my knees buckled, he flinched for a second, but stayed still. Almost as if my body was ready for it, my hand instinctively grabbed at the bed. Unfortunately - the universe hates me at this point - I snatched the blanket instead of the more stable mattress, going down with a mess of fluffy comfort raining down onto me.

I groaned, feeling the sting of embarrassment pierce me. Throwing off the blanket indignantly, I pushed myself up, ignoring the tingles in my legs. I found the boy, Dylan, holding open the door for me. He appeared impatient, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. That ticked me off more than I felt like it should, but I kept a level head and a professional stance. I strode out of the room.

"Ah, never gets old." He muttered.

I may not have understood what he meant by that, but I'm sure he understood the gesture I left behind.

I walked through the hallway, examining each room as much as I could within the moments I pass by them. I turn the corner to see a squeaky clean kitchen, with absolutely nothing on the counters or stove, or any dishes in the sink. Sitting at the table next to the kitchen, in a combination of a dining room and a living room, sat a short woman with a bright smile. A plate of brownies sat in front of her. She looked up when she heard my footsteps, and when the woman saw me, tears formed in her eyes. The woman's smile grew bigger as she gazed at me, her eyes filled with pride. She moved around the table and approached me quickly, but when I stumbled back, the woman hesitated, her smile fading. A stab of guilt shot through my gut. I didn't know her, but when she gestured towards the seat across from hers, I felt more remorse than suspicion. I shuffled to the table, sitting down across from her.

"Please, have a brownie, my child!" The woman gestured to the plate in front of her. I glanced at the brownies, but as much remorse I had, I was still on high aler- my stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting my thoughts. The woman laughed, picking up a brownie at the corner of the plate and taking a bite. "See? Totally safe. Why would I hurt you, of all people?"

"W-what do you mean?" I said.

"Why, can't you recognize me?" Her eyebrows crinkled in disappointment, again stinging guilt through my head. I hated being a disappointment. "Darling, it's me! Your mother!"

I stared at this woman, opened my mouth, and shut it again. I probably looked like a dying fish. "What…?"

Now that I studied her, from the vague memories I have of my mother, she did look pretty similar, besides the height difference. Then again, I heard people could lose height due to old age. At least, that's what one of my prison inmates told me.

As I stared at her, she grinned at me, more tears forming in her eyes. She stood up, opening her arms wide. I hesitated, but stood up and walked around the table, kneeling next to her. She embraced me tightly, and for a second, I closed my eyes and breathed her in. Tears would have welled up in my eyes too, if I had smelled her perfume. I almost gagged. Not because it smelled bad, the scent was vanilla with hints of strawberry, but because of the emotion it caused. I suddenly recalled another thing my inmate told me - scents, tastes and textures can be connected to memories, so if positive memories had a specific taste, scent, or texture, later interactions with that same substance could cause the same emotion. I didn't understand what she was saying at the time, but my inmate must have known her stuff, because I felt a quiet fear wash over me in that exact moment. I forced my body to keep still. It didn't work, but when my mother lifted my face and peered into my eyes, asking "What's wrong, my child?" I used my trembling voice to my advantage.

"It's nothing, mother. I just-" I took a shaky breath, "-missed you _so much_."

My acting skills must've not been too rusty, because the woman embraced me again, holding me for several moments before letting me go back to my chair. After a moment a silence for the both of us to collect ourselves, the woman gestured towards the brownies.

"Now, before we talk, why don't you eat some?" She smiled.

I stared at the delicious looking chocolate pieces of goodness that - due to the woman's performance of eating one completely in two bites - seemed perfectly safe. But something rubbed me the wrong way about it.

"I'll eat one, as long as we do a cheers together, to this amazing dessert you've baked!" I proposed.

"Hmm…" She seemed to contemplate whether it was the right choice, before a spark flashed in her eyes. "What a wonderful idea!" The woman reached for another brownie from a corner as I took one from the top of the pile.

"Oh no, I won't be able to eat the whole thing!" I said, splitting mine in half. I took one half and offered it to the woman. "Please, share it with me!"

"I'm okay, my sweet daughter. If you can't finish it now," She reached out her hand, placing it on my cheek, "It'll still be here for you to eat later." The kind smile with mischievous eyes was not a good look for her, but I resisted the urge to flinch.

"Now, a toast!" The woman picked up the brownie in the corner of the plate, and tipped it to the half I still had stretched out. "To a mother, and her long-lost daughter."

I smiled, before realizing she was waiting for me to take a bite.

 _Well,_ I thought, _how bad can her food be?_

I took a bite.

And it was delicious.


End file.
